Just Ginny
by Adora aka Ginny Drama
Summary: Ginny is over Harry, but what happens when he finally notices her? Fluffy beyond all belief. HG with RH OotP Spoilers! Chapter 3 now up! Rejoice!
1. Prolouge

Just Ginny  
  
By Adora  
  
Prologue: Getting to Me  
  
A/N Hey yall! This is the new and improved version of my story, sorry I haven't updated in a while, marching season has been crazy maddness.  
  
~*~*~  
  
I have always loved Harry Potter.  
  
I mean, it's to be expected that I would have a bit of a hero worship for him; nearly everyone does. But, somehow, as I grew up listening to Mum tell me the story at bed time of how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, I found myself thinking about how he was living his life now and trying to sympathize with the everyday hassles of being parentless, living with Muggles, and being a wizarding world celebrity. I dreamt of meeting him and helping him get through all the troubles of his life. While other girls my age were dreaming of meeting their Princes Charming, mine already had a name, and it was Harry Potter.  
  
Then came the day that I met him.  
  
September 1, 1991: five minutes to eleven A.M., just outside the barrier leading into the Platform 9 ¾.  
  
Obsessed? You don't know the half of it.  
  
He was everything I had always envisioned: kind, modest, and polite, hesitantly asking Mum how to get onto the platform. He was even good- looking to my ten-year-old eyes. I knew from the moment I heard his name that my 'hero worship' had grown into something deeper. I spent the next year, while everyone was at Hogwarts, dreaming of us becoming friends and eventually growing to love each other.  
  
I guess eventually is a whole lot longer than I had thought.  
  
I met Harry almost four years ago. I'm now finishing up my third year at Hogwarts. There is no denying that a lot has happened in those four years. Harry became good friends with my brother Ron, and with Hermione Granger. He has successfully avoided getting killed a good number of times, like the time he saved me from a basilisk and the memory of Tom Riddle, all because I was a blundering idiot and put my soul and trust into something when I didn't know where it kept its brain. I'll never forget my fear after I heard about last night when he came out onto this Quidditch Pitch, having seen Cedric Diggory killed and the once-defeated Dark Lord rise back to life.  
  
Other things have happened too, mostly without me. I hate having to watch from the sidelines, sick with worry but having to wait till it gets around with school gossip to know if he's all right. Harry doesn't know that I worry, of course. He doesn't know how many times I've cried myself to sleep over him not noticing me. He doesn't know how many times I've watched him from the other side of the common room. He doesn't know how many times I've guarded him from afar.  
  
And I honestly don't think he cares.  
  
Why would he? I'm just another member of his fan club. I'm just Ron's baby sister doomed to blush and stick my elbow in butter whenever he's around. He's never got to know me. Why would he? If he ever tries to talk to me, it's all I can do to string two words together.  
  
Harry likes classically pretty girls anyway. I look like a girly version of Fred and George.  
  
Same red hair (only longer).  
  
Same freckles.  
  
Same chin.  
  
My eyes are different, though. And there are of course a few other noticeably different things, nothing really worth mentioning though. But when you get right down **to it, I'm just another Weasley. Kissing me would be like kissing one of my brothers (and even I don't do that normally).  
  
I can't go on like this much longer. I'm tired of watching from afar, not being able to be as close as I like. Even when I do get a remote chance of becoming closer to Harry, I blow it to bits. By the looks of it now, I will never be with him and have to live with an eternity of unrequited love.  
  
It's horrible enough as it is. Cripes, it's like everywhere I look Harry's there! I can't even talk to my own blithering family without having to dance around the subject of Harry. And I'm tired of it.  
  
I am plain sick and tired of it.  
  
I am sick of sitting here wallowing in self-pity, going on about a boy who will never see me for what I am, when I could be doing something useful.  
  
I am sick of waiting and I am sick of being constantly let down because Harry Potter is a blithering prat, who can barely see past his nose.  
  
I WON'T STAND FOR THIS ANY LONGER.  
  
Suddenly I felt the familiar brush of feathers against my ear, as a tawny school owl sweeps by my cheek and hovers in front of my face, waiting for me to take the letter. I smile at her; she must have had to come and find me as I skipped breakfast.  
  
"Well, what do you have for me?" I asked, taking the parchment off the owl's leg.  
  
I uncurled it and read:  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
Look, I know I'm older. I know we're in different houses. And I know I haven't known you that long. But hear me out. You are so unlike any other girl I've met. You are so pretty, and so kind, and so funny. It's all I can do to ask you and hope that you'll say yes even though I know I'm not good enough for you.  
  
Would you please do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?  
  
With Hope and Love,  
  
Michael Corner  
  
I gasp. Michael is good-looking and two years older than I am! What the dragon dung is he doing asking a girl like me out?  
  
Maybe he sees what Harry doesn't.  
  
The sun begins to come out from behind a cloud and I know that starting now, things are going to be different.  
  
NO MORE STUTTERING!  
  
NO MORE ELBOWS IN BUTTER!  
  
NO MORE AVOIDING HIM WHEN HE COMES TO THE BURROW!  
  
I'M GOING TO BE NORMAL AND FREE!!!!  
  
Because, from now on, I'm not the girl who hopelessly loves the Boy-Who- Lived.  
  
I'm just Ginny.  
  
~*~*~ 


	2. Begining in Summer

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, alright? I don't own 'Walking on Sunshine' by Katrina and the Waves either (I'm guessing they do). Basically I don't own anything, I don't think I even own this plot (it kind of owns itself).  
  
Chapter 1: Beginning in Summer  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Morning."  
  
"Good morning, Ginny dear! Do you want me to make you some breakfast?"  
  
I grunted. Mum is far too cheerful in the morning. It makes me wonder if she puts a Cheerfulness Charm on herself every morning.  
  
"Eggs sound good?"  
  
I don't want to think! I just woke up, for Merlin's sake!  
  
"Too-Early! Don't-Want-To-Think!" I groaned.  
  
Mum tutted, "It's noon, dear."  
  
"So?"  
  
Mum went back to cooking my eggs, muttering something that sounded like "Morse dander bothers."  
  
As I began to eat, one brother or another came through rustling my hair or pinching me, and in the twins' case, trying to sneak a Canary Cream or something of the like into my food. I was slightly more awake when Ron came in.  
  
"Lo, Gin."  
  
"Morning, Ron." Ron suddenly did a double-take. What? I'm not doing anything different from normal. Okay, so my hair is a bit messy, big whoop.  
  
"Gin, you really need to put on some clothes."  
  
I looked down at my pajamas-shorts and a tank top. Yep, just as I thought, I'm still wearing them.  
  
"I'm wearing clothes," I pointed out to my brother.  
  
Ron began to gesture wildly. "Yeah, but you should wear . more."  
  
"Why? These never bothered you before."  
  
Ron again had trouble putting words together. "Yeah, but . The Guard is bringing Harry over today and . "  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Why should that make such a difference?"  
  
"Because. . . Harry's a. . . bloke!" Ron spluttered.  
  
I rolled my eyes again. It's a real wonder how a smart girl like Hermione can stand a brainless prat like my brother. "Yes, Ron. Harry is a bloke. That's why he's in your dormitory instead of Hermione's. In fact, I remember you being so aware of Harry being a bloke, that you spent almost all day yesterday trying to convince me to ditch Dean for Harry!"  
  
"Yeah, but that's different! I don't want him to actually look at you!"  
  
"Well, what do you propose he do? Wear a blindfold constantly?"  
  
"If it works!"  
  
I sighed again. Ron still won't shut up about the possibility of Harry and me. No matter how many times I tell him I gave up that torch a long while ago, he still seems to want to persist that all men besides Harry are scum. It's actually quite annoying.  
  
"I don't even know why I'm having this conversation. Harry and I are purely platonic. Now, if you would excuse me, I am going to go have shower. Oh, and by the way if you don't want me to get angry enough to do wandless magic, I suggest that you stay away," I said as I pushed my way past Ron.  
  
When I finished showering and getting dressed, I went outside and began degnoming the garden. Because I am the only member of the Weasley clan that is still under age, it is my job to do all the manual labor. Part of the reason I get up so late. I am also thoroughly convinced that the reason for this is my brothers. You see, they want to make sure that, should the occasion arise, I will be able to knock out any poor bloke stupid enough to make a pass at me. But when it comes right down to it, I'm still the one who has to degnome the garden, I'm the one who has to scrub Woodra's Woodguard on the house after it rains (which is about every two weeks), and I'm the one who has to clean the windows with Everclear Glass Cleaner. And on the days when I'm not doing menial tasks like that, Mum sets me to work on the Order's headquarters. That old elf Kreacher finally died, but he left the house needing more work than usual (I guess he wasn't entirely good-for-nothing).  
  
I sighed; I really hate degnoming.  
  
In my book, degnoming the garden is second only to Potions class in the list of "Things I Really Hate to Do." And when it comes before "Being guinea pig to Fred and George's inventions," you know it's bad.  
  
I sighed again.  
  
I really hate degnoming.  
  
But somebody has to do it. I got the Wireless from the kitchen and tuned it to my favorite station; I even turned it up when I heard one of my favorite songs.  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh!  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh!  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh! And don't it feel good! Ow!  
  
Half-dancing, half-throwing gnomes everywhere, I began to sing along with the song, really grateful none of my brothers were around. They always say that my singing is almost as bad as. . .  
  
Never mind.  
  
I used to think maybe you loved me, Now I know that it's true And I don't want to spend my whole life Just awaitin' for you Now I don't want you back for the weekend Not back for a day! I said baby I just want you back And I want you to stay!  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh!  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh!  
  
I'm walkin' on sunshine  
  
Whoa-oh! And don't it feel good!  
  
At this I did a jump-spin, accidentally knocking over somebody who happened to be in the close proximity.  
  
"Oh, Merlin! I am so sorry! Once I get wrapped up in a song I can't stop! Here, are you okay. . . ?" I rambled as I helped up . . .  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
Harry looked a lot different from the last time I saw him. He was tan, taller, and muscular-er. . .  
  
NO, NO, NO!  
  
BAD GINNY! VERY BAD!  
  
I'm over him! I'm over him! I'm over him! I'm over him! I'm over him! I'm over him! I AM OVER HARRY POTTER!  
  
Yet in the back of my mind, I heard a voice and it said. . .  
  
Harry good; Dean bad.  
  
"Harry! How are you? Did I hurt you? We should get you back to the house; I'm I can't do magic untill my birthday in February," I rambled. Long gone were the days when I was nervous around Harry Potter, and we've been better friends for it.  
  
Harry smiled a bit. "It's okay, Gin. I'm fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me."  
  
"I still think you should see Mum."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "You'll never change, will you?"  
  
"Do you want me to?"  
  
Harry laughed a bit. "No."  
  
At that moment Remus and Tonks walked over both laughing as if the fact that I had just winded the Boy-Who-Lived was the funniest thing they had ever seen.  
  
Remus, who finally calmed down enough to feign formality, said, "Honestly, Ginny! You really should be kinder to the poor boy!"  
  
I just rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at my former professor.  
  
"Sophisticated, Weasley," Tonks choked out while laughing even harder.  
  
"Well, if you lot are here just to lecture me, I'm going back to degnoming. Do you want me to tell Mum you'll be staying for dinner?" I asked oh-so politely.  
  
Remus shook his head, and Harry's face fell. "We need to get back to the Order. We have a meeting tonight."  
  
"Can I--"  
  
"NO!" answered Tonks and Remus at the same time.  
  
Harry sighed. Clearly he did not like the Order's rule of having to be out of school to be a member. "Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help? It's driving me mad. . . " Harry said pleadingly.  
  
Remus and Tonks exchanged glances. "We know, but you heard Dumbledore; the most you can do is to stay here. Please? Stay here. . . and try to forget about the war for a while. Try to have fun," Remus said patiently.  
  
Tonks nodded. "Please, Harry?"  
  
Harry sighed in consent and both Remus and Tonks smiled a bit, obviously pleased. Tonks stepped forward and gave each of us a hug. "Now you two behave," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. To me she whispered, "Make sure he smiles, don't want him getting too moody."  
  
And with a 'pop!' they were both gone.  
  
Then the silence came.  
  
Must break awkward silence! What to say.  
  
"Where's your trunk?"  
  
Brilliant, Weasley.  
  
Harry gave a forced smile. "In Ron's room. I came back down to say goodbye to Remus and Tonks and I got caught by Hurricane Ginny. Are you always like that, or is it only when you're degnoming?"  
  
I chuckled as we trekked to the Burrow, "I always try to make less-than- enjoyable tasks more enjoyable with music. Guess I got a bit carried away."  
  
Harry nodded. "How's your summer been?" he asked politely.  
  
"Increasingly dull, yours?"  
  
Harry snorted bitterly. "Horrible. The Dursleys were awful, though they've been better since fifth year."  
  
"Well, that's something."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I wish that was all there was. Imagine, going for weeks without knowing what's going on. Just alone to think. . . about things. Voldemort, and all the people he and his cowards are killing to get to you. About all the people whose families have been torn apart because your blood resurrected him." He paused, then spat, "About how you can't do a thing to protect the people you're endangering because you're still in school."  
  
Wow.  
  
I sighed in sympathy. "Look, I don't know if this will help, but after. you rescued me from the Chamber, I was feeling horrible. All those people I could have killed. . ." I shook my head and tried to rid myself of the memories. "Anyroad, Dumbledore came to talk to me in the Hospital wing, and . . . I don't know. . . I ended up telling him everything. He told me that we can't control people's choices, the way they handle things, or the way that their choices affect us. The only thing we can control is the way we react to it. Vol. . .Voldemort," I shuddered and Harry looked surprised, "made the choice to become a Dark Wizard in his first year at Hogwarts, maybe even before, and from that decision so many people died. All of this is his fault, his choice. Don't you dare take all that on yourself. I've lost people I want to avenge, too."  
  
The words hung there, and I bowed my head.  
  
Colin.  
  
Danielle, my best friend.  
  
Percy.  
  
I heard Harry breathe in heavily next to me.  
  
"I hate the waiting, and the not knowing, just as much as you do. But as much as I do know, and as much as I know I could handle battle, there is so much left to learn. So much that if we don't learn it, our opponents could use it against us. We need to wait, because if we don't Voldemort might win, and if we don't have a good attitude, he already has. Besides, its only one more year until you can join the Order I think, considering, that's not that long a wait."  
  
What the Fizzing Whizzbies did I just do? I just lectured the Boy-Who- Lived, that's what!  
  
Somebody curse me now.  
  
Harry looked thoughtful. "You'll always tell me when I'm being a prat won't you, Gin?"  
  
I laughed a bit. "I'm sorry, I got a bit carried away."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Somebody needed to stop me wallowing in self-pity."  
  
Whew! Okay, so he doesn't think I'm a total imbecile.  
  
I smiled. "Glad to be of service."  
  
Harry smiled, one of the few I had seen since my third year.  
  
"Sooo," I said, "How's Susan?"  
  
Susan Bones is his girlfriend from about the middle of last year.  
  
Harry shrugged and his smile faded a bit, "I don't know. We broke up a couple of weeks ago."  
  
This is awkward.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Harry shook his head, "Don't be. It just didn't work out and she and I are better off as friends anyway. Have you got your O.W. L. results back yet?"  
  
I giggled. "Yeah, Mum almost died of a heart attack; I got twelve."  
  
Harry's grin was wide now. "That's great Gin! Keep this up and you'll be as smart as Hermione."  
  
I blushed. I love it when he calls me Gin. "That's what Dean said. He warned me not to though; he said he didn't want to date a bookworm."  
  
Harry suddenly stiffened. "How is Dean?"  
  
I shrugged. "Good I guess. Especially now that Ron's stopped sending him threatening letters."  
  
"Ron's just trying to do what's best for you. He really loves you."  
  
"I know," I said, frustrated. "I just wish he wouldn't treat me like I can't take care of myself."  
  
"He knows you can. Just sometimes he forgets."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Harry sighed. "I don't know Gin. There are things that go on in your brother's head that barely make sense to him, nevermind me."  
  
"So basically you're telling me to talk to him."  
  
"Basically."  
  
I smiled, "Thanks Harry."  
  
~*~*~ 


	3. Of Brothers, Socks and Letters

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!  
  
Chapter 2: Of Brothers, Socks and Letters  
  
~*~*~  
  
When Harry and I reached the Burrow, we were immediately greeted by a sight that neither of us especially wanted to see. I mean, it's okay if Ron wants to snog Hermione; they haven't seen each other for weeks, but can't they do that somewhere private?  
  
After sharing a look with Harry that made us both want to laugh, I called to Hermione, "Oy! Hermione!"  
  
Hermione immediately surfaced, looking around for the speaker. When she saw me, she smiled and said, "Hullo Ginny. What is it?"  
  
Ron, however, didn't say anything; he was too busy looking murderous.  
  
I shrugged. "You had a bit of Ron on your face, but it's gone now."  
  
Harry suddenly burst out laughing, which was fortunate for me; Ron and Hermione were so surprised that Harry was actually laughing that they forgot all about the fact that I had just interrupted their. . .er. . .reunion.  
  
Well, they almost forgot.  
  
While Harry and Hermione were catching up, I heard my big brother whisper in my ear, "Don't think I won't get you back."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "You are obviously forgeting whose sister your talking to, I have things up my sleeve that would make you wish you had never heard of candy."  
  
Suddenly Ron didn't look as sure of himself as he had before.  
  
Hermione, who was still smiling turned to me and said, "How are you Ginny? Things going all right?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine. I finished all my homework, but I'd still like you to look over it."  
  
Hermione's eyes lit up and the boys let out a collective groan. "Sure thing!" she exclaimed. Then turning to the boys said, "That reminds me, have you two even started yet?"  
  
"Her-myyyy-own-eeeeee!" Ron whined. "It's Harry's birthday! Bother us about homework tomorrow."  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
It's Harry's birthday.  
  
And I don't have a present.  
  
That's not exactly good.  
  
I tried to catch Hermione's eye. She could get me out of this, maybe help me transfigure something into something, or something. . . Unfortunately she was too wrapped up talking to Ron and Harry to realise that I was having a crisis.  
  
Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.  
  
"Hermione! I need to talk to you right now!."  
  
"What is it?" "Ummm. . . It's a girl thing," I said, while I dragged her from the couch while both boys sat paralysed in horror (serves them right the dung brains).  
  
Hermione, however, looked extremely confused. When we finally reached my room, she looked around frantically as if a clue to why I was behaving this way would jump out at her.  
  
"What is it Ginny? Is it Dean? Have you been doing something with Dean?" she asked accusingly.  
  
I blushed. I didn't think before about how stupid this was going to sound, especially after Hermione's last statement. "No. . ." I said slowly. "It's Harry."  
  
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Ginny, I thought you were over him."  
  
Why does everybody think I'm not over Harry? I'm going out with another bloke; how much more proof do they want?  
  
"I AM over him!!! Why would I not be? Of course I'm over him."  
  
Hermione still looked sceptical. Me thinks thou dost protest too much."  
  
"Hermione. Not you too. I don't like Harry. It's bad enough my brother wants me to without you thinking I actually do."  
  
Hermione sighed, "Well, what is it then?"  
  
I blushed again. "Ididn'tgethimabirthdaypresent," I mumbled faster than I thought was humanly possible.  
  
I watched as my best friend's lips formed a circular O. "I see," was all that came after it.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you feel stupid because he's your friend."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Did he get you a birthday present?"  
  
I felt the now very familiar onset of a blush begin to start again, "Well. . . no. But I'm going to look really dumb during the party if everyone in my family gets him a present and I'm the only one that doesn't."  
  
Hermione nodded, "Well, there's no time to go shopping now, so what are you going to give him?"  
  
I shrugged, "I have no idea."  
  
Hermione smiled comfortingly, "Well, I'll unpack and you can look in my books. Maybe there is something in one of them we can do."  
  
I rolled my eyes-basic Hermione philosophy: when in doubt or need, go to a book.  
  
Hermione began placing her clothes beside mine in my drawers. After a bit of looking through Hermione's numerous books, I heard her snort.  
  
"Very ladylike, Hermy," I chortled.  
  
Hermione chuckled, "Ginny, why in the world do you have socks with Snitches and broomsticks on them?"  
  
Oh, those.  
  
"Those aren't exactly mine," I said trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
Hermione looked intrigued, "Oh, whose? Charlie's?"  
  
Act calm. . .  
  
She's going to make a big deal out of it. . .  
  
I shrugged. "No, those are Harry's."  
  
"YOU HAVE HARRY'S SOCKS?" bellowed an indignant Hermione.  
  
I knew she was going to make a big deal about it.  
  
"What's so bad about that?"  
  
"Ginny, you have Harry's socks."  
  
"So? They're warm."  
  
"When did you get them?" she interrogated.  
  
"I stole them in my third year, when I still liked him."  
  
"How many pairs of his do you have?" she continued.  
  
"Six," I addmitted a bit sheepishly.  
  
"SIX?"  
  
It's not that big a number.  
  
"Six."  
  
Hermione looked absolutely scandalised, as if I had just announced that I had been dating Draco Malfo in secret, and that we were now going to run off and elope in the Bahamas; and really, in comparison, it isn't that bad.  
  
"Why in the world haven't you given them back?"  
  
For someone so smart, Hermione just doesn't get it. "Oh, gee, wouldn't that be a fun conversation. 'Hey Harry! I nicked your socks because I wanted to feel close to you, because at the time I was madly in love with you. But now that I'm over you, do you want them back?' Come on Hermione, I'm a Gryffindor, not a psycho with a death wish."  
  
Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up the way they did when she had done something completely outside of all the rules. "I know what you can give Harry. . ."  
  
~*~  
  
"Happy Birthday, dear Harry! Happy Birthday to you!" I sang, along with the rest of the Weasley clan. Harry was looking very strange throughout the course of the festivites, as if he had never been sung to or never blown out birthday candles.  
  
Which, he probably hadn't.  
  
Mum was walking him through it, though. I think the all of us were just glad that, for once, Harry was having a normal birthday.  
  
"Go on, Harry, dear. Make a wish and blow out your candles."  
  
Harry skewed up his face like Tonks morphing. "FWWWWWWWWWWW!" he blew awkwardly.  
  
"Yea!" was the general red-headed plus Granger outcry, punctured by Fred and George's whistles and a few birds in the trees.  
  
After we had 'disposed' of Mum's cake, the time came that I had been dreading most.  
  
Harry's presents.  
  
Smiling a bit awkwardly I watched in horror as Harry picked up the closest present, which (thank the Heavens) wasn't mine. It turned out to be from Remus and a couple of the other members of the Order. It was a couple of pocket protectors to "protect you from wand ignition accidents." Harry thought it was hilarious.  
  
I don't get it.  
  
And on it went: Weasley sweaters, books (The Life of a Hero: The Harry Potter Story, Rise of Light, Fall of Dark, and So You Think You Can Handle a Dragon?), dung bombs and other dangerous items, an earring from Bill (Mum was absolutely scandalised), Cannon memorabilia, and a scrapbook from the Quidditch team.  
  
Then finally, he picked up mine.  
  
I know what's in it, and I know the uproar it's going to cause.  
  
And let's just say I'm not looking forward to it.  
  
"Who's that from, Harry?" Hermione asked innocently.  
  
The little blighter! She KNOWS WHO IT'S FROM! She helped me wrap it!  
  
"Uhhhh.Ginny," Harry said looking at the tag.  
  
He then began to proceed with the unwrapping.  
  
Oh, dragon doo.  
  
He's actually doing it.  
  
I think I'm going to die. . .  
  
Merlin, he's opening the box. . .  
  
TAKE ME NOW LORD!  
  
Harry suddenly let out an amused chuckle, and I knew my doom was sealed. "Socks? Gin, how much time have you been spending in the kitchens?"  
  
I smiled timidly.  
  
DON'T YOU DARE BLUSH VIRGINIA MARIE WEASLEY!  
  
"Take a closer look at them."  
  
Harry unfolded a pair and gave a look of surprise. "I haven't seen these in years. I thought Dobby nicked them." Then he paused. "Ginny, why did you have my socks?" he asked intrigued, holding up the pair of broomsticks and Snitches.  
  
"I think I can answer that, mate," Ron said chuckling. "Ginny's always pinching our socks. She probably nicked some of yours a while back, thinking they were mine. Funny, I don't think she's ever given any of ours back; she must really like you."  
  
Okay he's getting me back.  
  
I'll take care of him later.  
  
I smiled sweetly. "You're family. I don't have to be nice to you."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry's as good as!"  
  
"That's beside the point. Anyway, Harry doesn't own any bright orange Chudley Cannon socks. They're so much easier to find in the morning," I said cheerfully.  
  
Three, two, one.  
  
"YOU TOOK MY CANNON SOCKS???" Ron bellowed.  
  
I held up my foot, which donned the incriminating sock, "They're so lovely and warm," I said wiggling my toes.  
  
Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, "Ginny, I'd like my socks."  
  
"But, dearest brother, you don't want my feet to get cold!"  
  
Ron's ears began to burn scarlet, "Ginny."  
  
I grinned angelically. "What big bro?"  
  
"I swear if you don't give me my socks back."  
  
"Awww. . . ickle Ronnikins wats his swocks back. . ."  
  
"IT'S THE CANNONS!"  
  
"Ah, yes the famous, 'Cross you're fingers and hope for the best', just admit they stink."  
  
"Your feet stink," put in Fred or George (I couldn't tell which).  
  
"Shut up, O King of Stinksap!"  
  
It was then I noticed that Ron's ears had grown extremely red He picked up his wand and bellowed, "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"  
  
I suddenly felt myself being floated up above the nearby pond.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
Not good.  
  
He wouldn't. . .  
  
Would he?  
  
"RON! DON'T YOU DARE DROP ME IN THIS POND!"  
  
Ron just twirled his wand, "Give me my socks!"  
  
"I can't very well give you them from up here! I'm at least eight metres- WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT POTTER?"  
  
Harry, who was laughing so hard he was doubled over, shook his head. Hermione wasn't that much better, silent tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks.  
  
Some friends I've got.  
  
"Ginny, just give me my socks."  
  
"No, not when you're forcing me to."  
  
"Ginny."  
  
"Set me down."  
  
"No, give me my socks.  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Well then, I have no choice."  
  
"Ronald McDonald Weasley! (A/N I'm sorry, I couldn't resist) You wouldn't!"  
  
"Finete-"  
  
"RON!"  
  
"Incantataem!"  
  
SPLASH!  
  
I'm wet.  
  
And I'm cold.  
  
And I'm going to KILL Ronald Weasley.  
  
As I doggy paddled back to the edge of the pond, and spitting out the excess water that was in my mouth, I noticed that Ron had run away and that a certain raven-haired boy was laughing.  
  
I turned to him, smiled and said, "Do you think this is funny?"  
  
Harry coughed, regaining his composure, "Oh, no. Of course not. Why would I laugh at you? There's nothing funny about you."  
  
I began to grin and walk toward him, "Awww, that's so sweet!"  
  
"It is?" he asked confused and happy at the same time.  
  
"Yeah, and just for being such a sweetie, I think you deserve a hug."  
  
Harry started to back up once it dawned on him what it was I was about to do, "Uh, Ginny. That's not really necessary. I mean you're all wet."  
  
"That, my dear Harry, is precisely the point," I said as I leapt to pin him down.  
  
What the heck am I doing?  
  
Oh, that's right. I'm getting Harry soaked.  
  
I don't know why, but I am.  
  
My face was now inches from his. "Why don't you run, Potter?" I said pinning him and getting him as sopping wet as I was.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm a seventeen year old boy who honestly enjoys the sensation of having a girl this close, or maybe it's just that I find the way you scrunch your nose up when you're angry really cute."  
  
What the. . . ?  
  
Harry Potter. . .  
  
Is either coming on to me, or he really shouldn't go near water.  
  
Do you know what this means?  
  
Harry Potter might like me!  
  
And I'm. . .  
  
Going out with Dean.  
  
Talk about bad timing.  
  
"Harry what are you talking about?" I said getting up.  
  
Harry shrugged again. " I don't know. Trying to compliment you?"  
  
Is that good?  
  
Not when I'm going out with Dean.  
  
I tried to smile and act dignified, "Well, I don't think that it's appropriate for you to compliment me like that."  
  
Great, I sound like. . .  
  
Nevermind.  
  
"Oh, really?" He asked grabbing my hand and playing with my fingers.  
  
"Please, don't," I asked softly.  
  
Harry stared down at our joint hands and began to whisper. "Is it because I'm your brother's best friend?"  
  
He paused and I looked away uncomfortably.  
  
"Is it because you're afraid? Afraid of my mood swings? Afraid that starting a relationship with me would make you a target for Death Eaters?"  
  
"I'm not afraid."  
  
Where did that come from?  
  
Harry looked at me, hope shining in his eyes. "Then what's wrong?"  
  
I backed away withdrawing my hand. "Harry, I have a boyfriend. You know that."  
  
Harry's eyes looked downcast. "Yeah."  
  
"Then why. . ."  
  
"Because you don't love him."  
  
Of course I don't! I'm 16! But I like Dean. Isn't that enough?  
  
Why is Harry doing this?  
  
I need to get away and get some sleep. This will all go away in the morning.  
  
"Harry. . .I need to go inside," I said shakily.  
  
Harry looked furious with himself or me, I really couldn't tell. "Yeah, I'll meet you in there."  
  
Okay, this is very strange.  
  
Harry, can't actually like me.  
  
He's suffering from post-breakup syndrome!  
  
Yeah, that's it!  
  
It will go away in a couple of days.  
  
When I got inside the house most of the other Weasley's had either Apparated back to their flats/houses or gone to bed.  
  
Ron had waited for me, though.  
  
Ehhhhhh. . .  
  
Knowing him, he probably saw everything.  
  
He looked up at me and smiled, "Have fun?"  
  
Yep, he saw everything.  
  
I returned his grin, "Yes, I had such a refreshing swim."  
  
"Told you I'd get you back."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all talk and wand work. We'll settle this later," I retorted.  
  
"Weasley Quidditch?"  
  
"What else?"  
  
We sat in silence for a while, when Ron suddenly remembered something.  
  
"Oh, your blundering idiot owled you."  
  
"Dean really did? Where's the letter?"  
  
Ron pointed to my spot at the kitchen table, where a letter sat.  
  
Dear Ginny,  
  
Hey, girl. Nothing much is happening here to the point where chores are the highlight of my day. You see what I'm reduced to without my girl to make me laugh? It seems like I haven't seen you in forever. But that will be remedied in a few days. I think I'm going to take you up on your invitation. Mum is going to visit some aunt of mine that lives about half an hour from where you live. She's agreed to let me spend next Wednesday at your house. I'm really looking forward to seeing you. I have no idea how I've lasted this long. Next year is going to be torture.  
  
Owl me when you get this.  
  
Love,  
  
Dean  
  
Ron, who had been reading over my shoulder snorted, "He's not clingy, is he?"  
  
I shrugged.  
  
Okay, so Dean is a bit. . .possessive.  
  
I can handle it.  
  
It's just because he likes me so much.  
  
Right. That's it.  
  
"Doesn't that bother you?" Ron asked.  
  
"No!" I said a bit too quickly.  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, it does bother me at times."  
  
Ron nodded, "I figured that. Why do you put up with it?"  
  
"Why do you care?"  
  
"Because I want you to be happy. Tell me something has Dean ever mentioned marriage? Kids?"  
  
"What's wrong with that? We've been together for over a year."  
  
"You're 16!"  
  
"And your point is?''  
  
"You are too young to even think about getting married!"  
  
I snorted "This coming from the bloke who stares at rings every time we pass Glodlukes Gold and Silver. Come on and stuff it. You're beginning to sound like mum."  
  
"Hey, it's not like Hermione and I are going to get married right away. Besides I'm older."  
  
"So? Besides, Dean wants to start a family right away."  
  
"Does he now? Do you?"  
  
"It's one of the few things we've argued about from time to time. I want to go to Charm school and learn how to build charms," I admitted.  
  
"Huhm. I think you should dump him," Ron said matter-of-factly, then added quickly, "I'm not saying for anybody. I just think you would be happier without him."  
  
Sure he does.  
  
"Well, thank you. But it's really not your opinion that matters," I said and turned to go up to my room.  
  
Ron came up behind me, "Gin, sooner or later you're going to have to face the fact that you don't love him."  
  
"I know."  
  
~*~*~ 


	4. The Weasley Way

Just Ginny  
  
By Adora  
  
A/N Okay, I'm back! This was a bear to write with all the stuff I've been doing since school started. Also I have two words—Marching Season. I hope I didn't make anyone wait too long! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I love you!  
  
Disclaimer: Man, I hate these things. I know I don't own Harry Potter! Yes, it has taken many hours of therapy, but I now know that I don't own Harry Potter. They say that admitting is the first step toward recovery . . .  
  
Chapter 3: The Weasley Way  
  
~*~*~  
  
"Ron," I pleaded. "Please, please, please try to be decent to Dean."  
  
Ron sighed, "Ginny, I've already told you how I feel about this. I honestly don't see why I should give the time of day to that prat. He just isn't right for you."  
  
Oh . . . he is so getting the bat boogey now . . .  
  
"Why do you have to be such a git about this?" I screamed.  
  
"Ginny, I..."  
  
"No, don't even try. I know what you're going to say, and frankly I don't want to hear it. I know you're trying to act all big brotherly, but did it ever occur to you that I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself who is right for me?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Ginny, I know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean I don't want to do it for you. I don't like Dean for you, I never have, and I probably never will. But for your sake, I'm going to trust that you know what your doing, and I'll try to be civil at dinner tonight."  
  
I stared at him. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"  
  
Hermione's getting to him, that's all I can say.  
  
Ron laughed. "So when I'm decent, I'm not your brother?"  
  
"I never said that . . ."  
  
At that moment my boyfriend decided it would be a good time to ring the doorbell—half of an hour early.  
  
"Cripes, he's early. Hey, I'll talk to you later," I said quickly, hoping that when I got to the door it wouldn't already be too late.  
  
It's too late.  
  
There in the living room was Dean, and the two people that I had been hoping he would not meet. Just my luck Gred and Forge happend to pick today to visit the Burrow.  
  
Coincidence? I think not.  
  
"Dean!" I said rushing in, hoping to distract him from whatever embarrassing story my brothers were relating.  
  
"Ginny!" he cried, hurrying toward me and picking me up and swinging me around, finally setting me down and kissing me.  
  
I was hoping he wouldn't do that in front of my brothers, but right now a girl can't complain much.  
  
Over my shoulder I heard the twins making gagging noises and calling for other brothers. I quickly pulled away and sent them both a death glare, while Dean gave me an inquisitive one. I brushed him off and moved to smack my brothers.  
  
"Hey! What did we do?" George cried as I failed to smack him.  
  
"You're a git, what else?" I said reasonably, giving up the attack.  
  
Fred looked hurt. "We weren't the ones sucking face."  
  
George smiled at his brother grimly and nodded, received one back and both of them moved to circle around Dean.  
  
"Now, Deanikins, we have a few rules to put down, now that we've seen what you do with our sister in public . . ."  
  
"We just need to make sure we understand each other. We like you Dean, but we like our sister more . . ." George continued.  
  
Oh, Merlin.  
  
"Now, rule number one never snog our sister in public. It doesn't look right," Fred said seriously.  
  
"Especially after we eat," put in George.  
  
"Right," Dean said shakily.  
  
"Secondly, you hurt her, we hurt you. You mess her up, we mess you up worse. You make her cry, we make you wish you had never been born," Fred threatened menacingly.  
  
Fred always was the protective of the two.  
  
"Are you two done yet?" I asked calmly.  
  
"In other words, do something stupid and your well on your way to becoming a eunuch." George said with an evil glint in his eye.  
  
Dean broke into a sweat.  
  
"Oookay! That is enough! You know, as much as I enjoy watching my older brothers threaten my boyfriend, we have a picnic that we really need to get going on. Come on Dean," I said quickly.  
  
Dean practically ran after me, still sweating and breathing hard. "Do they do that to all your boyfriends?"  
  
"Yeah, but that actually wasn't all that bad. When they first met Michael, they gave him an untested Skiving Snackbox, the poor bloke had an itchy rash of boils for almost two weeks."  
  
~*~  
  
After we ate our picnic and had a miraculous two hours alone, I spotted Fred, George, Ron and Harry coming with brooms on their shoulder and Hermione with her nose in a book.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
Weasley Quidditch.  
  
Now I happen to like Dean. A lot. He's a wonderful boyfriend. But the poor boy cannot play Quidditch to save his life.  
  
Ron came over grinning. Apparently this secret is not so secret.  
  
"Hey, Ginny. If I remember correctly we have a game of Quidditch planed for today!" he said smiling.  
  
Fred joined in saying, "Why don't you and Dean play and we can have a three on three."  
  
Ron nodded. "It'll be more fun that way."  
  
"Dean doesn't have a broom," I said quickly.  
  
Dean looked disappointed. I could tell he really wanted to play; the poor boy is in denial about his lack of Quidditch talent.  
  
"He can borrow mine," Hermione called from her book.  
  
Huh? Hermione has a broom?  
  
Harry looked confused as well, "Since when do you have a broom?"  
  
Hermione looked up and shot Ron a glare, "Since Ronald gave it to me for our anniversary."  
  
Ron's ears turned red, "Mione, come on, I said I was sorry . . . How was I supposed to know that you wanted jewelry or some girly stuff like that?"  
  
My brother is officially a dork.  
  
I laughed. "You could have asked me."  
  
Harry laughed too. "Ron, in all honesty it was a bit daft. Hermione hates flying, especially after those thestrals, even I knew that."  
  
Hermione nodded hurtfully, though you could tell she was pleased that Harry was laughing.  
  
"As much as we like to discuss how much Ronnikins does not know about women, George and I would much rather play Quidditch," Fred said impatiently.  
  
Never get between that boy and his broom.  
  
"I want to get going too, I haven't played in ages," Dean said eagerly.  
  
Ron snorted. The last time Dean played was in a two on two match between him and Seamus against Ron and Neville.  
  
Ron and Neville won.  
  
How sad is that?  
  
"All right, George and I are captains," Fred said jovially.  
  
George smiled mischievously. "I get Harry!"  
  
Fred frowned. "Okay, then, I get Ginny."  
  
George's smile became wider. "Ron!"  
  
"Oh, no, I get Ron—you have Dean."  
  
"No, no, no dear brother, I called Ron."  
  
"But you have Harry! You can afford to have Dean!" Fred pleaded.  
  
"You have Ginny, she'll make up for him."  
  
"I get the feeling your brother's don't like me that much." Dean muttered.  
  
Duh.  
  
"Of course they don't. You're my boyfriend. But it's not that. Admit it Dean, you're horrible at Quidditch," I said with a laugh.  
  
Dean looked hurt. "I'm not that bad."  
  
"Dean, Neville beat you."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Neville Longbottom. Face it Dean, Quidditch isn't your sport." I said comfortingly.  
  
"I could be good if I wanted to be," he said quietly.  
  
"I'm sure you could be," I said consolingly.  
  
"HAH! I WIN! I get Ron! You have Dean!! You goin' DOWN!" Fred exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, grow up, will you?" I chastised.  
  
My brothers are almost twenty, yet they still have the maturity of a four year old.  
  
George, however, seemed very put out. "All right, you heard him Harry and Dean, you're with me. Ginny and Ron you're with Fred."  
  
Well, this should be... interesting.  
  
~*~  
  
Soon we were all mounted on our brooms, Dean on Hermione's new Streaking Star and me on my old reliable Nimbus 1700.  
  
As we took our positions, I could tell that this was going to be an interesting game. We Weasleys had finally acquired our own set of Quidditch Balls the previous Christmas. We were playing with the Quaffle and the two Bludgers, the twins were playing Beaters, Harry and I were Chasers, and Dean and Ron were keepers.  
  
Dean was doomed from the start as he flew up to guard the "hoops" (transfigured trees) he almost fell. I guess he just rose up too steep and didn't have a good enough grip . . .  
  
Now I have a policy when competing against boyfriends.  
  
Show no mercy.  
  
Dean never had a chance.  
  
The game ended 190- 80; we would have won by a bigger lead if Harry wasn't a halfway decent Chaser. But even Harry couldn't make up for Dean. The fool honestly ducked a couple times when I threw the Quaffle at him.  
  
Now, as I've said before, I like Dean. But how sad can you get?  
  
My twits for brothers weren't much help either, teasing him the whole time. Harry, though actually tried to help Dean.  
  
And believe me, he needed it.  
  
One time, when I tried to score Harry jumped in front of the hoops and intercepted my throw. Ron was laughing so hard that Harry was able to go on and score.  
  
George and Fred weren't help at all; Bludegers kept "magically" heading toward Dean.  
  
Of course, whenever this would happen, Hermione would scream maniacally about how you weren't allowed to attack the Keeper unless the Quaffle was in the scoring area.  
  
For someone who hates Quidditch she sure knows a lot about the rules . . . (wonder why)  
  
Anyway . . . Let's just say that Dean wasn't too happy about losing.  
  
"I just lost to my girlfriend. I cannot believe I just lost to my girlfriend." Dean muttered.  
  
EXCUUUUSE ME?  
  
"Excuse me, I'm hoping I'm hearing voices and I didn't just hear my boyfriend acting like a male chauvinistic pig."  
  
Fred put his arm around me and said, "Sorry Ginny-Whinny I think you did."  
  
Dean stopped. "Wait. Did you just call me a male chauvinistic pig?"  
  
"Yeah, well when you're going around insulting your girlfriend's Quidditch abilities- WHEN SHE'S THE ONE WHO HAS BEEN ON THE HOUSE TEAM FOR, OH THE PAST TWO YEARS- you might begin to expect it!"  
  
Now comes the part where Dean will try to be contorting.  
  
"Now Gin, I think you may be overreacting just a little..."  
  
"Don't you 'Gin' me. And if you think that I have no right to 'overreact' when you say things like 'I can't believe I lost to my girlfriend' you have another think coming, Buster."  
  
Buster? Where the snapadoodles did that come from?  
  
Somewhere from behind I felt Harry pull me back by the shoulders.  
  
Great. I must be really fuming if Harry thinks he needs to hold me back to save Dean's life.  
  
"Ginny. Calm down."  
  
"Calm down? How can you expect me to...?"  
  
"Now come on Ginny. You have a lot of adrenaline rushing to that brain of yours from the game. I think you should just let it go before you say something you don't mean to say."  
  
Errrrgh. Why does he have to be right all the time? It's like he's some kind of mind reader.  
  
"Oh. All right. But I swear if you say another..."  
  
"He won't, right Dean?" Harry prodded.  
  
Dean nodded furiously. "I won't. I promise. I'm sorry Ginny."  
  
And then the idiot that I call my boyfriend did his second dumb thing for the day.  
  
He leaned down and tried to kiss me.  
  
"Uh-uh. No you don't. Not now Dean," I muttered.  
  
"DINNER!" I heard my mum call.  
  
Saved by the...mum.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, Dean. What do you plan on doing with you're life?" my Father asked.  
  
Oh no. Not that anything but that.  
  
"An artist. I just got admitted to Curley's Culture Center in Scotland. I'll be going at the end of this year." Dean replied.  
  
My mother was not impressed. "Oh. That's...nice."  
  
Dean was, of course, oblivious to my mother's sarcasm. "Yeah, I'm really excited. I'll be able to support myself and a family by doing freelance ads and things like that and still be able to pursue painting and sculpting."  
  
Ron smiled. "How does that work with Ginny going to Charm School?"  
  
Dean's smile faded. "Well, um..."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't. But if we decide to get married before I graduate, and mother that is an IF- we are not, I repeat, not engaged- then we'll figure something out."  
  
"Too bad Dean's not becoming an Auror. Auror training is three years and Charm's is only two. You'd get out at the same time and you would be on the same campus." Ron said pointedly.  
  
"Ron, shut it before I make you shut it." I said while Harry was pretending to be momentarily deaf.  
  
Stupid coward.  
  
Ding Dong.  
  
Thank Merlin. That's Dean's mother.  
  
Dean sighed. "Thank you Mrs. Weasley for letting me come over. It was incredibly nice of you."  
  
Mum nodded. "Anytime," she said half-heartedly.  
  
"See you, girl." Dean said squeezing my hand and trying to meet my eyes.  
  
"See you." I replied staring at the floor.  
  
"Bye everyone!" Dean called on his way out.  
  
I sighed. I'm so glad that is over with.  
  
"Well, that went well." George said as everyone laughed.  
  
Why me?  
  
~*~  
  
AN/All right! It's done!!!!! I'm so sorry it took so long! Now be nice and review!!! Go on I know you want to! 


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